[maikafanawen]

Concluding the Luncheon


Lunch was served and Emilia, Elena, and Dryea took their place at the table, eating the delectable cuisine that had been roasted, steamed, and in the mushroom’s case, grilled. Both nervous and excited about her mother’s accomplishments during the little get together, Dryea could hardly get past her appetizer let alone touch her entrée. The wine was good though, Dryea admitted. Dorwinion wine was served all across Middle Earth, even in Umbar, and Dryea had an acquired a partiality taste for it.

At the conclusion of the meal, ladies began to take their leave, politely thanking Pelien for her hospitality.

“We thoroughly enjoyed your company, Lady Pelien,” said Ruiel as Alethea and Dryea stood on either side of her, “and hope to return the favor one day.”

“It was my pleasure Lady Ruiel,” she answered graciously.

The coach was waiting for them back at the steward’s mansion, ready to take them home. Dryea climbed in to the dark purple interior of the carriage and took the seat across from Ruiel and beside Alethea. The ride home was silent. The trio had nothing to speak of that could be overheard by the driver and his companion so all conversations were postponed until they were inside their own residence.

Behind them, in a similar coach rode Meirelle, Rhe, Gwen and Ranne. The four maids had spent their morning well tidying up and packing. Ruiel was much appreciative that they were able to leave immediately thanks to their diligent and assiduous effort.

The ride home was rough and Dryea had much to reflect upon. How could her mother risk such a thing. Ar-Pharazon! Though as Dryea turned the idea over and over in her head it suddenly became more believable. It was true indeed that in the high circles of Dol Amroth, the subject of Finduilas had been a scarce one. Her match with Denethor, Dryea speculated, had always been recognized, therefore deleting any interest of conversation—or more correctly, petty gossip, with the Dol Amroth hoi polloi. Also by revealing her connection with Ar-Pharazon it still kept Finduilas as a Dol Amroth citizen preventing silly maids from making the mistake she wasn’t from there at all.

Dryea suppressed a giggle as she though upon the expressions of the nobles if the rumor was twisted to grotesquely to even state that she was of corsair blood herself. Ruiel’s eldest daughter amused herself by picture Finduilas in the rich garb of a woman corsair and mounting the plank to her sire’s ship. Oh that would be witty. Finduilas didn’t have what it took to be a corsair anyhow: charm and exceptionally good looks? There is no way that any woman would last long with those two sole qualities.

Dropping her thoughts momentarily, Dryea gazed through the slit in the curtained window as they were taken down the cobblestone road passed the magnificent front gardens of nearby houses. The hedges were all trimmed perfectly and the gorse-bushes and blackberry brambles lined the fronts of the houses giving it the affluent look of a nobleman’s residence.

It wasn’t a long distance from there to the Morthaniawen Estate at all and they arrived much sooner even than Dryea anticipated. The horses were driven right up through the black iron gates to the steps that led up to the large mahogany double-doors. The coachman opened the entrance to the carriage and the three women stepped out: Ruiel first followed by Dryea then Alethea.

“Welcome home Madame,” said Adolfe, their butler as the doors were opened allowing the house’s mistresses to enter. Hats, gloves, and parasols were taken by maids up to their chambers as the three women went to see to the unpacking of their belongings.

“Go ahead and have those things taken right up Rhe and unpacked. I trust you don’t need my supervision.” The maid curtsied and ordered two male servants to see the things where they belonged. Dryea then turned to her mother who was watching her speculatively.

“You wanted to speak to me?” Dryea nodded and followed as her mother beckoned her into one of the rooms that didn’t have a normal entrance by door and instead opened as Ruiel pulled aside a tapestry and lifted the handle by the floor crown-moulding with her foot. The wall swung open and the two women entered.

The room was lined with shelves that held books a noblewoman of Gondor would never keep in her library. These books were on the histories of the Morthaniawen’s race, herb recipes you wouldn’t find at an ordinary apothecary, and others of the necessary sort for Ruiel and her daughter’s professional and personal uses. A long narrow worktable stood in the center of the very back wall. Here laid open jars and books: remnants from Ruiel’s last project left unfinished.

Now Lady Morthaniawen turned to her daughter, her expression relaxed now that she was around things she knew and was comfortable with.

“What is it?” she asked insensitively. Dryea stepped forward and looked her mother directly in the eye. This action showed that she considered herself an equal and wanted to be treated as such.

“Mother, are you mad? No one will fall for such a thing as what you said at the luncheon!!”

“But I didn’t say it. The gossip did,” she said this so matter-of-factly that Dryea thought that would be the extent of the exchange.

“I still don’t think it was—” Ruiel cut her off.

“That’s why I’m the one who does the thinking around here. You’ll see just how clever it was. I planned carefully Dryea. It shan’t go amiss.” She paused and went over to her worktable before adding, “Has anything ever?”

“No,” said Dryea feeling quite defeated. “I hope this shan’t be the first time.” She didn’t wait to see the slightly irritated expression on her mother’s face before she turned and disappeared behind the wall and emerged past the tapestry on the other side startling a maid who almost toppled a vase. Dryea sent her a reproachful glare before finding her way through the labyrinth of halls to her chambers.

The Morthaniawen home was cleverly decorated to accommodate both backgrounds imperceptibly. The location and sequence as to where decorations, earthenware, tapestries, paintings, and furniture was placed could be deciphered by a man (or woman) with either lineage and still suppose that the residents of the home were allies when they could be either. There could be a large painting of a corsair hero hanging point blank upon the wall as long as it was flanked on either side by tapestries of ancient kings of men and no one would guess a thing. Dyrea personally couldn’t stand looking at the Gondorian objet d'arts but was grateful at least that she could identify paintings of her own heroes. Even if a loyalist asked the reason for a pirate’s portrait in the lounge (for example), she would decidedly answer that wouldn’t a king likewise hold paintings of his conquered? The matter was hardly then pursued.

The rooms in the mansion were standard: numerous guestrooms, study, library, conservatory, dining hall, dining room, ball room (or open room with doors that led out to the back patio and rear gardens), parlor, breakfast room, sunroom: your basic noble’s estate. However, there were certain inclusions inside this house that would most likely be absent in others. There are necessary amenities such as storerooms, private offices and libraries, workrooms and secure and unobserved access to the stables on the 6th Level of the city, the Gate and the streets. Through these additions, the Morthaniawen’s had a first hand access to everything they’d need or want right of entry to in the city.

Rhe was leaving Dryea’s room just as she arrived. “Anything else you needed?” the maid asked tiredly bowing her head in respect. Dryea thought about it quickly, checking to see if her decanter was refreshed with her preference then shook her head.

“No, you can go on. I’ll ring for someone if I do.” Rhe left then, closing the doors behind her so that it clicked and locked into place: a necessary precaution.

Dryea’s room was a classic Umbarian suite complete with an affluent canopy bed and exotic fabrics covering the sofa, chairs and a matching down comforter was spread over the bed. In front of the windows hung matching colors of solid prints underneath diaphanous drapes to permit every measurement of sunlight. These had been thrown back to reveal huge windows that looked out to the gardens surrounding the Morthaniawen estate.

Dryea ignored the beauties outside and glided mist like to her vanity where she sat looking exhaustedly at her reflection. It pleased her in a satisfactory way. Her skin was fair and bright, clear of any sort of blemishes. The bottom half of her auburn hair hung down around her slender neck and collarbones while the upper was woven into an intricate bun and pinned in the center back of her head. It was a little past noon and Dryea hadn’t anything else planned for the day, so, taking up a book she had chosen from the open library in her house, she donned a simple hat and took up her parasol to sit in the garden and read peacefully until tea.

[ July 30, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]